XI

THE SONGS OF CELEBRATION

Sing ye O birds from the far east’s marvelous places, from those high wood ends of that soft fibrous bendable, the uttermost edge calmly kindling from within your nesting place, willing to please your suitable nests, correlating the level of your maternal care. Spread your glamorous wings O birds of distinctive colors, for the morning breeze caresses your flambouyant feathers, restoring your dazzling feathery affections to your fabulous wings of larks.

O ye of majestic roses from Jericho, the sweet fragrances of Carmelo’s plants, those delicate lilies from Zabulon’s wilderness, and ye O royal violets in Jordan, spread your bouquet of flowers and shower the prairies of your pleasant pollen’s from your sweet perfumes. The quiet demure of your shy morning star scatters its’ glorious splendor over the meadows, and your fresh morning dew, the celestial beauty of its’ silvery moisture, diffuses its’ glistening vapors down your superficial surface to give life to all. The delightful sceneries of your endless farmlands are the sweet perfumes of your flowers, relinquishing the atmosphere of your countryside that beautifies your magnificent land, for the bright resplendent sky is graciously smiling at you. But be beware of the warm breeze that tickles your sweet senses, for this soft wind is whispering a lonely sigh, a terrifying howl, whistling a soft sob, murmuring from between the green branches of Jerusalem’s palm trees.

Never before, in this bountiful Palestine, just like today, through its’ gentle wind, as accurate as now, in this gorgeous day with absolute happiness and beauty, blasted a resounding echo of agony! Never before, and beyond imagination, is the glimpse of what lies ahead. For from the glittering, cascading light, pouring down like waterfalls from heaven, in this passionate, poetic land, and from the sanctifying bright shining sun, streaming down to its’ unaware citizens, are the innocent victims of this wondrous land.

Just before the sunrise broke down from the horizon are these effulgent men, welcoming the bursts of a brand new day, walking joyfully, going to their farmlands, with their peaceful hearts shining from within, reflecting their smiles, expressing great pleasure of happiness with their bright gleaming faces. Oh! this blessed day, unblemished from the darkest clouds, that can ruin its’ brightness, is the sacred, incandescent light scattering to its’ dignified hard-working people. A one harmonious day of blessedness in their hearts, filled with sweet valor, showing courage and determination from the rhythm of their one idyllic beauty of a bright new day. The chirping sounds of those happy birds are playing their parts for welcoming this lovely day, and with the delightful flowers from the meadows, spreading its’ intoxicating aromas, is the raspy wind, screaming from within, lamenting beforehand. But this deceitful cloudless bright day is the prelude for the coming misfortune, with its’ finest wind flowing down from heaven, kissing the leaves uttermost tips from the woods, the repulsive purple color of its’ soil, and the warm affable coziness coming from the sun are blinding from within, misleading the unfortunate event that is about to reel out. The misrepresentation of giving more charm and beauty to grew a greater day in abundance.

A big group of women from Bethlehem, and Ramlah is appearing from the distance, happily dancing as they paraded, stomping the ground for celebration, singing their country songs, while joyfully walking. They are all dressed in festive clothing, pursuing the road to City of David, intending to celebrate “The Feasts of Easter and Azimos” in the City called “Holy.”

Where so to go? O ye women from Bethlehem, wearing the prettiest dresses in town? And why in their arms are their beloved babies, smiling wonderfully like a bright shining stars from the sweet, loving songs of their caring mothers? What could be the exciting event, an affair of celebration in Bethlehem that every woman from Juda, and even to the farthest secluded corners in town are united within, and could not be more happier, merrily marching, going to the said city where Jesus was born?

An older man, covered with white striped red shawl is walking along the road, on the way to Idumean dried land, in pursuance to reach the Arabian Desert, the south and east, and Arabah to the west. On the opposite side of the road and coming into sight are a thick group of women, approaching gaily, singing joyfully, rejoicing while marching along with their children. Their ineffable merriment is indescribable, which caught his attention, and so he stopped walking.

The older man waited at the lowland road as his body pressed against his cedar cane.

—“Women from Juda,” the older man’s trembling voice said. —“Where are you going? In this early morning, even before the sun rises, with your babies, everybody seemed to be in great joy?”

—“Old man!” replied by one of the woman with unruly tongue. —“Who in Bethlehem, and even from the nearby towns would not know this occassion, expressing our heartfelt celebration as the rejoicing mothers?”

—“I am not from here; but I live in Arabia Petraea, and now I am on my way to the land of the Israelites. I am like a bird looking for it’s nests of comfort.” The older man said.

—“Go on to Zion’s Temple!” Another woman said.

—“Come with us! So we can share with you our enormous great joy!” Another one said.

—“I can’t,” replied the older man. —“My wife and my children are waiting for me, especially my people living on the Red sea’s side of the shores. They wait for me everyday; they shed tears of sadness every sunset while waiting for me, their precious tears are dedicated for me. But can you tell me the reason of your rejoicing? I want to remember this event, meeting happy people on the road, can make me remember this happy event, and in my lonely hours can help me kept awake at night during the cold season. And I can also tell this happy story to my children while we are huddled around the fire, as I narrate my inspiring stories of my travels”

—“We can’t be delayed now! They are waiting for us in Bethlehem. We were instructed to be in attendance just before the morning prayers (Virgilia Matutina), and they had no time to wait for us throughout the day. Our children’s future is being built upon this event,” explained one lady.

—“If that is so, I must go now! And may peace be with you all!” The older man said.

Then he continued to walk on peacefully, going to the mountainous side of Judea. The women pursued also, on their way to their destination, cheerfully singing once again, excited, exchanging jokes with each other while climbing the mountainous hillslopes, ascending through the flanks of valleys and the margins of the eroding uplands. At the top of these mountainous hillslopes stood the famous town of David, the Holy City where Jesus was born!

Let us go back for a few hours more to find out the reason behind the overflowing happiness of these women from Bethlehem.

That afternoon from that previous day, was the brutal slave of Herod, Cingo. He came to town in Bethlehem with group of big, strong soldiers for a decree. By sounding the trumpet, an announcement was made, known to peaceful people of Bethlehem as a declaration of a new mandate from the Caesar or their King, Herod, and they were not mistaken. A spokesperson called out loud, and with his clear resounding voice, he declared publicly the following:

—“I Herod, King of Judea and the Governor-General of the twelve tribes of Israel, through this publicized announcement, I command to implement the following:

“That all mothers from Bethlehem and the mothers from the nearby towns, with their male children, from two years old and under, are invited to come to the courtyard’s big hall tomorrow. After the morning prayers, Herod will grant them valuable rewards to those who could come in this great event. This is for the veneration of their well-being, for their dear beloved male children that God bestowed on those loving mothers from the God of Zion. May this be an honour to their names, and become an additional blessings to their descendants. A mother who could not come and would not comply to this order, or are late to attend to this big event will be punished. Disobeying the King’s order will enforce the separation of their beloved children from their caring mothers forever! — I am Herod!”

This announcement of command spreads all over the city of David and to their nearby towns. It was regarded as a sweet ordinances, promulgated by their King, and the mothers are filled with joy in their hearts. These foolish women from Bethlehem had their wishes, a strong desire for their children to be privileged, a dream of having a noble future, prepared beforehand by their excellent King. And how can you resist this one demand of command, after clearly stating to obtain a one valuable reward for your child’s success, and the consequences for disobeying this order will inevitably lead to a severe punishment?

But oh! Those ill-fated mothers that don’t realize the hard to understand beastlike behaviors, and was never made known beforehand this absolute evil, from the planned deception, misleading the innocent victims with no sense of moral character from their King? But instead are excited to this lying betrayal, not knowing the preceding sacrifices are about to take place, like kissing goodbye to their white innocent lambs under the sharpened axes of their executioners.

The dreadful place destined for the massacre of the Holy innocents is a large spacious courtyard, surrounded by beautiful, charming gardens with its’ continuous wall structures, enclosing the whole area for some privacy.

Cingo, the trustworthy stewards, who will execute the barbaric plan from Herod’s secret orders, is already there with his robusts and brutal soldiers——waiting for the right moment, ready for the signal to begin their murderous plot. Without a hint of the terrifying finalization of this event, these unconscious mothers started their admittance, entering into that place of carnage and bloodshed. These babies are all smiling, holding the hands of their loving mothers, while these mothers in attendance are humbled enough to greet their killers. They look happy from expressing their friendliness, and even proud for parading their beloved fruits, the product of their wombs. In this way, had the mothers continued to come until the said place was filled with these unaware guests. A quick glance from the wild servant, Cingo, had swiftly surmised the great crowd with lusts for blood in his eyes, for the unaware mothers are even excited, fascinated to this great event, showing from their faces are their tender affections to their children. Then it came to mind that the hour has come, Cingo is all prepared to carry out his monstrous quest from his Lord’s command, Herod. But this heartless event is consistent, agreeing to its’ evil purpose, they were about to begin the massacre, when a mother approached Cingo, and with her cheerful attitude, she asked him of when is the promised rewards be distributed. This unfortunate mother is carrying two babies; the youngest is a suckling babe, taking nourishment from his mother’s breast while sleeping in her arms, and the bigger one is two years old, smiling and holding his mother’s left hand, pleasantly enjoying the crystallized shining dark face of the slave.

—“Sir, when will they begin distributing the promised valuable rewards?” The innocent mother asked. —“For I am in a hurry, I have plenty of things to do at home, my household chores.”

—“You are now free to go, and be the master of your will!” Cingo replied, and without any hesitation, he snatched the suckling babe from his mother’s arms.

The woman was shocked, stunned by Cingo’s action, that by his strong hands, and with all his might, Cingo powerfully throw her child to the sharpest corner of the wall. The appalled and baffled mother was bewildered, and could not understand the brutal attack she had witnessed. Her eyes are wide open from the extreme atrocity, screaming the loudest after regaining from her shocking confusion, watching the unimaginable bestiality, the woman collapses at the top of her still warm, torn, and bloodied body of her child. The loud scream serves as an indication to get into action the gruesome killings of the innocent babies.

Where can we find or hear this true-to-life monstrous event that took place in the said Holy City? A hard to describe illustration, with each abominable action to every innocent child from Bethlehem, filled with the reality of brutality? The dreadful and savage scene, from the grisly bloodshed all over the hall is the unforgettable, hard to erase thoughts from the unconscious mind, the incomprehensible cruelty that create a loud outcry from a loving heart, crying in horror of disbelief. Tears are gushing forth from those once loving eyes for the great anguish, lamenting in deep mourning for this merciless carnage.

Saint Augustine, known as “The Augustine of Hippo,” was a theologian philosopher and of Berber origin, and the Bishop of Hippo Regius in Numidia, Roman North Africa. His undying writings influenced the development of Western Philosophy and Western Christianity, and viewed as one of the most important Church Fathers of the Latin Church in the Patristic period. Through the stroke of his unique, inimitable pen and with his noble mind, his outstanding intelligence, and his deep, immense way of thinking, from heaven’s radiant love, God granted him the clear perception to portray the indescribable event from that reprehensible act, Herod’s killings of the innocent babies.

Let us take a moment and let us put to light the brief sketch of Saint Augustine’s life. A true African, Saint Augustine was influenced by Saint Ambrose’s excellent way of preaching; and from the help of his mother’s pleading to God for his conversion, he was baptized as a Christ-follower in Milan on Easter Vigil. His outpouring brilliant mind, made him brave enough to compose and write the book entitled: “The City of Gods.”

Herod’s killings of the Holy innocents is his clear antecedent of how he portrayed the gruesome incident that took place and made the world cry. Recounting the process for telling the story and writing the fact, is like a bright shining sun, continuously uncovering the event, as it slowly being revealed from within him and became known to his perceptive mind. The unhindered illustration, materializing from within is gradually spreading like a disease unfolding before him. It expanded from one incident to another, like whispers pouring down from heaven, as teardrops gushing forth from his grieving eyes, an overwhelming grief, from the unthinkable agony of this distressed soul. The truthfulness of the circumstance gave him great despair and anxiety. This is how he narrates the story: